


White Tie, Silk Dress

by Keystoffees



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: DapperBatch, F/M, Met Ball, MetGala, Smut, Teasing, Top Hat and Tails, White-tie, cumbersmut, fingers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keystoffees/pseuds/Keystoffees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Benedict is filthy when he thinks no-one can see him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Tie, Silk Dress

At his request, I wear no underwear. 

It would almost certainly have interfered with the line of the dress, but I know that was not what was running through his mind when he suggested it.

I feel nervous. My dress cuts in to my waist; the fact that I haven't eaten all day doesn't help as much as I'd hoped. I look down and see my breasts failing to be held in place by the corset of this dress. It looks pretty but I wonder if it was designed by a man.

We leave the car, together. Cameras flash in my face and his. He smiles broadly and I blink into the strobe effect trying to remember to relax. I take a second and let my eyes wander over his frame as he stands next to me. 

Top hat and tails should be his uniform; his body is made for them. Exquisite. White bow-tie and waistcoat and a beautiful antique pocket watch. 

He looks like a fairytale prince and I smile when I hear him make a joke about it. I don't think Disney heroes like to fuck you while you pull their hair.

I stand by his side and smile. He puts a hand on the small of my back and leaves it there while the flashes subside and we are free to enter the building. 

Still, his hand does not leave me. It presses into my flesh, hot skin and skilled fingers. I know what he's doing. 

We find drinks and make small talk. There are more cameras and he smiles sweetly. I sip my drink carefully and when he has to move away for a handshake, he returns with a tiny crinkle of his nose and a flash of his eyes. 

We sit at our table. I find something to do with my hands, playing with the placeholders, thick cream card and embossed gold lettering; fancy. We eat our food. He's becoming bored. It's not long before he finds something to do with his hands too. 

I feel him lifting the silk fabric, inching it up so that it pools in my lap. I glance around. The other guests talk politely and pick at their desserts. 

The hem of my expensive dress is hitched right up and lies crinkled across my knees. He returns to his food. Someone to my left speaks and I pretend to concentrate. But I don't have any idea what the words mean, distracted, so I smile and nod. 

Coffee arrives, along with relief and disappointment, when he has to speak with the lady to his right. She touches his arm and his other hand flies to my shoulder. He squeezes, impossibly long fingers wrapped over my bare skin. His touch does indescribable things to me.

Her dress is ill-fitting too, but I think it's more noticeable than mine. She smiles patronisingly at me then moves away. She turns back to take another look at him but he is already oblivious.

He does that thing, that half smile, when his mouth turns down at the corners, as he looks down at the table. He sips his coffee. 

I look around the room and people are beginning to appear drunk. It makes me smile. 

The tips of warm fingers tickle the inside of my leg, reaching my thigh as the fabric shifts and slides. I breathe in sharply but no one notices. I rearrange my napkin so that it covers my lap. The ache between my legs makes my face flush and I see his colour rising too. He doesn't look at me.

He leans over to me and presses his face up close to my ear. 

"I want to feel you, I want you to make my fingers wet, right here, right now."

I swallow and relax my legs as his fingers begin to squirm. He finds me as wet as he wants me to be and I jump when he curls a finger into me, shooting a first wave of pleasure over me. 

Almost delirious, I glance around again. I hope it looks as though he holds my hand under the table. 

He drains his cup and moves his hand away. Finally looking at me, he flashes a dirty grin as he licks his finger.

***

Bodies pressed together against the mirrored wall, we fuck each other's mouths with our tongues. I've been turned on since he gave me a preview under the table. I cannot get enough of his mouth. His smell. His shoulders in the black morning suit. I want to rip off the white bow-tie and have him tie my hands together with it. He probably will.

His hands tear again at the hem of my skirt and this time he holds it around my waist with one hand. The other reaches down and rubs at me, hard enough to make me cry out at his touch. The sound I make is caught by his lips.

The elevator bell chimes and he releases me just as the door opens. A middle aged couple are almost treated to a view of my bare lower half, but he stands in front of me long enough for the end of my dress to hit the floor. He smiles that smile again and swishes past them, pulling me by my hand.

We close the door of our hotel room. 

I pull gently on the end of his white bow-tie as my other hand slides down the inside of his trousers.


End file.
